''❞ striker x reader ━
your existence feels like an endless cycle of boredom, sadness, and a sense of being lost. but everything changes when you stumble upon the harvest moon festival, a rare glimmer of excitement in you...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
in the dimly lit interior of striker's mine shaft, you find yourself lying on the bed in the makeshift saloon. the warmth from the lava-lit walls contrasts with the coolness of the air around you. despite the unfamiliar surroundings, a strange sense of security has taken hold. it's been days since striker brought you here, days of patching up wounds, fleeting moments of tenderness, and an unspoken connection that grows stronger with each passing moment.
as you lay there, lost in your thoughts, you feel a pair of yellow eyes on you. striker stands in the doorway of the 'saloon', his sharp gaze fixed on you. his lips curl into a half-smile, a mixture of amusement and something else you can't quite decipher. his eyes seem to pierce through your every layer, making you feel both vulnerable and seen.
with a slow, confident stride, striker crosses place, his boots tapping softly against the rugged ground. he moves like a predator closing in on its prey, deliberate and unhurried. the flickering light casts shadows on his pale red skin, adding to the mystique that surrounds him.
"you're such a sweet little thing," he drawls, his voice laced with a hint of something you can't quite place. your heart skips a beat as he stops at the edge of the bed, towering over you. his right-hand moves down your body, his touch sending a shiver down your spine as it reaches your rear. he moves his hand up higher, his fingers grazing your skin in a soft caress that leaves goosebumps in its wake.
"oh... you aren't eating, sweetheart," he continues, his voice shifting from its usual arrogance to a more observant tone. his words send a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability rushing through you, making you feel exposed under his gaze. "you're so frail.. that isn't good."
he lets out a chuckle, his fingers now trailing up your back with a feather-light touch. the sensation is both unsettling and strangely intimate, making your breath catch in your throat. "you need some fattening up~ and i know just the right ways to do it," he speaks in a low, deep tone, the huskiness of his voice sending a jolt of conflicting emotions through you.
your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty as striker's words linger in the air. his touch, though gentle, ignites a fire of sensations within you. you find it hard to tear your gaze away from his, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation filling your mind.
striker's fingers trace a path along your spine, his touch oddly comforting despite the complex emotions swirling within you. he seems to relish in the effect he has on you, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. the proximity between you is electrifying, the tension in the air palpable.
"tell me, doll," he continues, his voice a mere whisper as his fingers trail over your skin. "how long have you been carryin' this burden? starvin' yourself to be this fragile, this small?"
his words cut deep, exposing the truth you've kept hidden even from yourself. you swallow hard, the weight of your insecurities crashing down around you. striker's gaze doesn't waver, his yellow eyes locking onto yours as if he can see straight into your soul.
